The boy almost sank, down into the regions of purgatory (where he belonged; barely able to fit into the virtuous heavens, not yet ready for the crawling of demons) at her first proclamation. He’d expected something, anything, to render him into more wisdom, more guidance, but the obviousness she rendered across her tongue, like he was some oblivious fool, nearly caused him to curl away. Perhaps he’d irked and irritated her graceful presence and she no longer felt like entertaining his barbed, ridiculous soul – but he’d wanted so much more than the simplicity, than the nuances, than the essence and sprinkle of what could be and what might have been. She gave him something else moments later, and he tasted the word on his tongue, “Enlightenment,” like it was a strange, foreign substance. He’d been enlightened before, when murderers caved into their desires and bludgeoned innocence, when worlds cracked and frayed for no rhyme, no reason, when demons rose and the gallant fell, when Gods were no longer Gods, just the same as every other mortal – gone, buried, forgotten. He’d been enlightened when he gazed across the stars and imagined himself there, fervent, eager, ready for the incoming frays and the onslaught of revenge. He’d been enlightened when friends were no longer friends but disappeared portions of the past – ones he tried to cling to, to hold onto, even when they parted ways what felt like eons before and never tried to look for him, didn’t bother remembering his name, his face, or what he aspired to be (and he could recall all of theirs - Adelric who’d become the grand Doctor with his sewing needle, Asch who wanted to be a Queen, using the Rotunda as her throne). He’d been enlightened when he faltered and failed, stumbled and withered, decayed and became less of himself because he’d lost; when he’d twisted himself into a rancorous, bitter omen of distaste and discord, when he vowed to do so many things and pledged to so many lives. The boy must’ve been wasting her time, no more informed or developed than he’d been instances before – the same distortion of devil and knight, intrepid and valorous, but touched by too many nefarious deeds, longing for too many sinister arts.
 
But she was staring at him still, poised and effervescent, granting him more answers to his silly queries, reminding him she only served one God and she couldn’t call to all of them (but wouldn’t it be wonderful if she could, if they all could?). The lad still smiled, still grinned a Cheshire rampart, as she replied – of a value not suitable for words, for tongues, for mere mortals. He laughed a little at her hasty comment, felt like it was directed towards him, the youth fueled and persistent and always rampaging towards his next destination. Maybe he was ignorant and unknowing too – because he knew so much about the world and its strengths, its failings, but so little as well, like why the measure of his strength, of his brutality, of his heart never seemed to matter, or why some days, some hours, his determination wasn’t enough. He wasn’t enough. “Then you are blessed to have such an ability.” He coiled and unleashed, a knowing grin, a captivating stare, a whimsical wink, understanding, comprehending, at the very least, that he wasn’t worth the rapture and reverence she held in her finesse, in her potency. One day, he thought to himself. One day even the Gods will know me.
 
He’d looked down at the snowy ground along the interval, then across the vast plain to ensure Orsino was still alive, when her question sprang across his ears, caused him to jerk his head up and around, facing her directly all over again. The knight’s brow arched a few careful degrees, uncertain, unsure, of how to proceed. In normal circumstances he’d be the epitome of control – a polished lad seeking adventure, a prince bowing his head to every soul he met, a courageous, intrepid fool longing for answers he couldn’t have or fathom. He hadn’t expected the layers nestled between her query, the riddles, the enigmas, or why she wanted to know. Next to her splendor, he was nothing. The boy’s response shouldn’t have mattered, but he found himself taking the time to reply – because he didn’t want to proclaim he sought power in every inch of the realm, he didn’t want her to know that he lied through his teeth to get what he wanted, and he didn’t want to inform her that all he saw behind his eyes was the blood of his enemies, splashed and spilled across the ground, their bones bare, their faces vacant, their souls damned, gone, and his vengeance completed. “The world is full of so many things, but I imagine it as a stepping stone, a lesson in experiences,” he started, gaze ignited over the desolate area, the warbling surf of snow and ice. “I’ve seen power and devastation. I’ve seen hope and wrath.” His eyes chiseled back to her again, a little lost in the vision, in the sea, of angelic gold. “So I strive to see what I can learn from it, each and every day – and trust, eventually, I’ll be able to do something great and grand with such wisdom.” He ceased there, before he unraveled all the incantations, all the wickedness, of his cherished sagacity, and thrust the inquiry back upon her. "How do you see the world?"

Erebos

clever got me this far - - then tricky got me in